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AnguishANGUISH
by Rita

Rated: - PG
Warnings: Proposed Death of Team, Angst, Maggie's grief

********************

07:55 a.m. Day of Execution

Maggie Sullivan sat on the hard chair, her arms on the plain
hardwood table, still trying to comprehend events since the news
flash
she'd heard a couple of weeks earlier. Hannibal and the rest of the
Team had been captured in Spain by some spook named Stockwell and had
been shipped back to the states for trial. Try as she might, she
could not beg, bribe or buy any way into that trial. Although in
hindsight, she realized that if she'd been in the same room to watch
the travesty of *justice* that had been perpetrated on all of them,
she would have gone berserk and probably created a bigger problem.

Reading the transcripts, such as they were, every day in the
newspapers had only broken her spirit further. The pictures in the
papers showed a group of men who were handsome and uncowed. What she
would have given to see Hannibal then. But of course, she would have
been such a distraction to him that that could make the difference in
something so life-threatening.

Every day, she continued to try, anyway, to gain access to
that courtroom, but to no avail. She tried disguises, forged papers
(Hannibal would have been proud of her and Amy's efforts), anything.
What was so heartbreaking was that the reporter also could not gain
access, the military believing she was far too compromised on the
Team's behalf to be a nonjudgmental nor safe participant. At least
Amy had been able to get her the transcripts of the trial a day or
two
afterwards.

And then the last day... Maggie's tears trickled down slowly.
The verdict had come in and the Team had been sentenced not to
twenty
years in prison but to death for killing their commanding officer.
Amy had gone hysterical, wondering how Maggie was able to take the
verdict so calmly.

//Calmly? It was an act, Amy. Just an act. There's plenty
of time to go to pieces. I've got my whole life to go to pieces...
but now I've got to stay strong just in case something comes up at
the
last minute and we can still save them.// Maggie never wavered in
her faith that Hannibal would come up with one of his last-minute
fantastic plans and the Team would make yet another of their
improbable escapes. She just wished she could find Murdock and see
if
he needed any help. Being cut off so completely from the guys just
tore her apart.

She expected them to make a try when they were transferred to
the island prison off the California coast. Nothing happened. She
expected they would somehow trick their guards and make their escape,
commandeering a boat from the island fleet. None were taken. She
expected to hear of a daring helicopter rescue with Murdock at the
helm and the guys being lifted out of the middle of the prison while
thumbing their noses at the soldiers below. No helicopters were
waylaid or reported stolen.

Maggie had felt the sense of doom and finality slowly
descending upon her. Hannibal had tried to prepare her for this
eventuality. "Maggie, it can't last forever. One of these days,
the
luck is gonna run out." She remembered his gentle hands stroking her
face, threading through her hair. "There will be nothing you can do.
Please don't set yourself up trying, okay? If that day comes, I
don't want you there to see it. Promise me, please?"

She blithely promised, of course, believing innately that
Hannibal would never have to cross that bridge. They would get free
somehow before the government could ever kill them.

But they hadn't. Somehow fate had finally intervened and
overcome them. She tried to imagine how Hannibal must be feeling in
these last hours of his life. She knew if he'd had a choice, he
would
have preferred to go out fighting - whether injustice or for his own
freedom. The lump in her throat got larger.

She tried to restrain herself from staring at her watch so
much, but it seemed the room was full of timepieces everywhere she
looked. She had no idea why Decker had brought her here, other than
he was also expecting Hannibal to pull off some last minute escape
and
wanted to have her as a trump card. Trying to keep her composure
with
that anal jerk watching her like a hawk had been a supreme effort on
her part. Her eyes stole down again and noticed the watch hand had
crept forward a few seconds. The execution was due to go off at 8:00
a.m., less than a minute from now. She felt the grief welling up
from
the bottom of her soul as she saw Hannibal in her mind and heart, the
ragged, lopsided grin, the man of action, the tender man where
children and women were concerned, the cold soldier where injustice
was perpetrated. She kept seeing his twinkling eyes, so clear and
blue, so open and yet so mysterious. He could be devious, open,
loving, cold.

And when they made love, it was a completely different man
again. The tenderness he brought to her bed had amazed her, given
his
background. He'd brought her love, happiness, sex and awareness like
no other had ever been able to. He'd made her whole.

And now he would be gone... //Oh, God... please do
something... please.//

Maggie's recalcitrant eyes would not obey her mind and stole
down once again to the watch. 8:00 o'clock on the dot. Her heart
gave a tug and she felt like her life was leaving her.

Decker clapped his hands together in a loud reverberation
which tore through the room and her and she jerked violently at the
unexpected sound.

"Finally! I got you, John Hannibal Smith!"

Maggie just looked at him in disbelief, the tears starting to
flow unchecked down her face. She could not imagine the effrontery
of
this man to gloat at this moment with her watching. Then the full
impact hit her. //Hannibal is dead. He's gone. He'll never come
back... those beautiful blue eyes will never open again.// At that
thought, she dissolved completely, laying her head on her crossed
arms
and let the tears wash over her, wondering how she would ever have the
strength to get up and leave this room, knowing the reason for her
existence was no more...